But only because I am a whore for compliments. It's kinda sad, actually, but I will give a big tip or buy something extra or dole out the baked goods, favors or extra-enthusiastic blow jobs when I get (seemingly?) random compliments.
The woman who continues to use her phone in the loo and always tells the person she's calling to "have a blessed day in the Lord," told me twice this morning that I had beautiful hair. She's a clever one. I mean, it does look good today, but still ...
I can't stay mad at her. Even after yesterday, when she wiped up some water or picked something up off the floor (though, given her heaving breathing while just standing today, I'm doubting this was the case) to "help out the cleaning lady, even though I didn't do it." Bitch, I don't do that shit either, yet I clean it up. Okay, maybe I can stay mad at her.
God, that poor cleaning lady. Monday there was a wrapper from a female catheter on the floor of the stalls. Then later, someone was apparently having their break in the bathroom and spilled popcorn around the trash and a huge amount right outside the door all over the hall floor. There's also a big stain in front of the door that appeared this week. How terribly delightful.
A couple of days ago, I wiped up some water around the sink while the cleaning lady was in there. I guess she saw me and said, "Oh, thank you!" It was that really surprised, gushing "thank you," I give when someone waits extra long to hold a door for me or something of that nature. Of course, I said, "No. Thank you." It makes me sad that she'd sound so thankful just because I wiped up some water. Then again, knowing what she deals with day in and day out, she was probably surprised I didn't just toss it on the floor because, hey! Cleaning lady is here. Let her pick that shit up. God, I hate those bitches.